Wishing
by coffeegirl02
Summary: When Tristan finds himself wishing Rory never went to Chilton, he never expected for it to come true...


A/N:  I do not own any of the characters in this fic that are on Gilmore Girls, but I do own all the ones I made up (duh).  Unfortunately, I can't say that this fic will be updated in awhile.  I've lost interest in this fandom little by little, but I thought I would post what I have.  I'm sure I'll return again someday, with a new update for this story.  I know that I had a lot of things planned for this story, and I still want to write and finish it.  Just give me awhile!  Thanks.  R/R, as always.  

wishing

He sat on his bed, trying to forget.  He wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to, but it was something that had to be done.  The events that had occurred on the last day of school just made it more obvious.  What could _he do about it?  All of his efforts would be ignored, so what was the point?_

"There _is no point," he muttered aloud to himself, while staring at a tiny crack in his ceiling.  _

She would always hate him.  Sweet-talking her would do nothing for him at all.  Tristan looked at the crumpled up tickets in his hand.  

_PJ Harvey, he read, __7 pm__.  Row 8, Seats 6 and 7.  Section 14.  _

It took a lot of hard work on his part to get his dad to buy the tickets.  Begging was not something he was accustomed to, but he had assumed that it would all work out in the end, because it would be worth it.  

_It's definitely not what I wanted to happen, that's for sure._

He crumpled up the tickets again and tossed them in the trash can at the end of his table.  Still staring at the ceiling, his eye caught sight of one tiny glow-in-the-dark star in the right corner.  He remembered when his mother put it there when he was a 5 year old boy, standing on his bunk bed and gluing it on to the ceiling for him, acting like it was some special moment in history.  

_Elizabeth stood on her son's bed, sifting through his large amount of stuffed animals.  Taking the tube of tacky glue in one hand and the tiny white star in the other, she motioned for Tristan to come over. _

_"Tristan, sweetie, where do you want me to put the star?"_

_The blonde boy looked up at his mother and smiled a toothy grin.  "Right there, mommy!"  He said, pointing to a post on the right corner of his ceiling.  His mother smiled at him and glued the star to the ceiling.  Steeping down, she walked over to Tristan and bent down so she was facing him.  _

_"Want to see something special, Tristan baby?" she asked, her eyes dancing._

_"Okay, mommy!"  He replied, jumping up and down hastily.  His eyes were focused on the tiny star above him, and he waited for something to happen.  Would it fall or move?_

_Elizabeth__ walked over to Tristan's basketball shaped light switch and turned the lights off.  Tristan smiled as the star lit up and he ran over to his mother, hugging her around her legs.  _

_"Mommy, what's so special 'bout stars?  I see 'em but they don't do anything."_

_His mother smiled at him and spoke carefully.  "Well, sweetie, stars really are special.  If you make a wish when you look at one, it'll come true."  She winced as soon as she said it, but continued to speak.  "But only if you're a good boy."_

_"Really, mommy?  I'm going to start wishing right away!"  With that said and done, Tristan ran over to his window and began to make his first ever 'wish upon a star'.  _

The wish never came true.  _None of the wishes ever came true._

Of course, he had asked for something different every night until he was 12 and realized that it was just some crap that his mother told him to keep him happy.  But it wasn't like she would realize that now.  Sure, she cared when he wished for a basketball, a dog, a television set- and she even left him "surprises" under his bed once in awhile.  But after a few months she stopped, and he stopped wishing.  

And now she was living in Europe while Tristan was stuck at home with his dad, who never bothered him.  Or, rephrased differently—never bothered _with him.  _

Yeah, he was alone for most of the time, but it's not like he cared.  Or so he thought.  

Getting up from his bed, he yawned and walked over to his window.  He grabbed his photo album on the way there and began to sift through its pages as he sat down at his window seat.  The pages were labeled in silver writing and they shone in the moonlight that was pouring in from his window.  As he turned each laminated page, he smiled ruefully.  

_Tristan, age 5, at the Carnival.  (eating cotton candy.. isn't he adorable?)_

_Tristan, age 4, in the Gazebo.  (picking flowers, are they for his mommy?)_

_Tristan, age 6, at the Mother's Day Tea Party.  (Pouring tea for mom.  Isn't he the perfect gentleman?)  _

_Tristan, age 3, with Spike and Pisky.  (The cutest puppy and kitty ever!)_

Not once was there a "_Tristan, age 15, at Chilton (class picture)" or a "__Tristan, age 17, prom picture (doesn't he look handsome in his tux?)".  _

It's not like his mother didn't care.  She cared, but after all, she was in Europe.  His father tried to make time to care, but with his busy schedule, there wasn't enough time in the day.  When he was younger, they had to make time- _had to.  For the lack of a better word.  He was a kid, and he "needed" the nourishment.  _

He had come to the realization that recent pictures of him wouldn't look too good with the other pictures, they were lined with lace anyway.  He didn't want  "_Tristan, making out with anonymous girl, age 16, at god knows where" next to "__Tristan, age 4, playing his first game of baseball in Stone Arrow Park".  _

There was a picture he _did want in the book, but because of what had happened nearly 3 months ago, he doubted that it would ever appear.  He wanted a picture of him and Rory together, taken willingly.  Because he liked her and that's what he wanted in the photo album.  _

He didn't even know _why he liked her.  _

Okay, she was hot.  _That was an underestimation.  She was beautiful, and he wanted her.  For the longest time.  But she didn't want him.  She disliked him from the very beginning, when he tried to charm her after their first class together.  She said no to a study date.  He put her aside for later, remembering that there were other girls.  Eventually she was next in line on his list, but she again turned him down.  So she went back on the waiting list.  And she kept turning him down, until eventually she was the only girl left on the list.  He wasn't even sure if he wanted anything but her to give in.  When she did, would he still want her?  He had thought about it for a month, and then came to the conclusion that he would.  He always would, because she was different than the other girls, and in a good way.  _

After all, he still wanted her after they kissed for the first time.  It was a damn good kiss too.  It hurt him when she told him that it was a "rebound kiss", but when she admitted that it was a good one, he was _almost back to normal.  He figured that there would come a day that they would kiss again- not because they were 'rebounding', but because they wanted to.  That day __had to come._

After coming to the last page of the photo album, Tristan got up from his window seat and placed the book back on the shelf with all the others.  He walked over to his light switch and flicked off the lights.  Blinking, he tried to adjust his eyes to the darkness of the room.  Cursing as the sharp edge of his desk jabbed into his arm, Tristan jumped on to his bed and lay there for awhile, thinking.  About her, of course.  

_She ruined me.  I used to be happy with all the other girls… going from one to another.  Why can't I just get her out of my mind?    _

He was disgusted with himself, and the way that he had changed ever since he met her.  Would it be the same tomorrow, the first day of junior year?  He didn't know.  Tristan turned to look at the star on his ceiling again and then to the stars outside his window.  

"I wish she never came to Chilton," he muttered aloud before finally falling asleep. 

The black BMW maneuvered its way into the small parking space easily.  Sure, Tristan had almost run over a freshman boy to get the spot, but it's not like it mattered – after all, almost doesn't count.  

After he turned off the engine, Tristan sat in the driver's seat staring at the school.  Sitting motionless for a few moments, he turned the engine on again as well as the radio, but found that he was hardly listening to it.  Instead, he stared off into space, looking out of the glass window of his car, unable to really see anything.  Seconds ticket by and Tristan turned off the engine and reluctantly got out of his car.  He opened the trunk of the black BMW and grabbed his backpack.  After hearing the familiar _click of the car doors, he headed towards the prison camp he liked to call "Chilton".  _

The welcoming Assembly pretty much sucked.  All of the assemblies sucked.  But it's not like the students had their ways out of it.  Instead, they had to live through the Headmaster's droning on and on for an hour, hoping that maybe he would cut it short just this once.  Tristan sat at the far end of the first row, next to his friend.  As he fought the urge to fall asleep, he was half-listening to headmaster Charleston telling his students that "shenanigans" would not be tolerated during the year.  Rolling his eyes, he ran a hand through his hair and blinked.  As Charleston's speech got more boring by the second, Tristan found it harder and harder to stay awake.  Eventually, his eyes got the better of him and closed, and Charleston's voice began to fade.  

"Micheal.  Mr. Bodtman!"  

Tristan opened his eyes and looked for the source of the voice that had so rudely woken him up.  _I swear, if it's a freshman kid, I'm going to beat the shi-_

He stopped talking to himself as soon as he found a pair of brown eyes glaring at him.  As his own eyes began to clear, he looked her over, finding an old woman in an equally old grey dress looking down upon him.  A teacher, he guessed.  

"Mr. Bodtman, this speech is meant to benefit the students.  Therefore, I'll have to ask for you to stay awake.  I won't tolerate laziness, and I doubt that your Headmaster does."

"What?  Oh, sorry."  He wasn't in the mood to give her his usual snappy comeback.  He turned back to Charleston, silently dismissing her.  After all, he wasn't even sure she was addressing him- the last time he checked, his name wasn't Michael Bodtman.  Unfortunately, the grey haired teacher had other plans.  

"Yes, it _does seem that you're sorry," she commented dryly.  After writing something down on a piece of paper, she handed it to him and said, "And I'm __very sorry for giving this to you."  After shoving it in his hands, she walked away stiffly.  _

Tristan looked down at the paper, reading it silently.  _Michael Bodtman to report to detention this afternoon at __3:00__.  –Mrs. Landeck._

He snickered loudly and turned to Brian Marsicano, who had been sitting next to him.  "What the hell just happened?" He asked, confused.  

"While you were sleeping she came over and asked me what your name was.  Well, I told her.  It just wasn't the right name.  I guess I have a selective memory."  He smirked.  

"Thanks, Marsicano.  Detention on the first day of school doesn't sound so appealing."  He grinned, but then added, "Not like it's never happened before."

"Yeah, no problem.  Let's just hope we don't have her as a teacher," Brian remarked, frowning.

Tristan nodded absentmindedly and sat for the rest of the assembly with his chin in his hand, trying not to fall asleep again.  Only when schedules and locker numbers were passed out did he take the risk, knowing that Charleston would take his time explaining how to correctly open lockers.  

Tristan walked over to locker number E142 and successfully opened it.  He shoved the notebooks he didn't need into its black depths and jammed the others into his backpack.  A group of girls walked by and he grinned at them, finding pleasure in the fact that they giggled and turned red when they saw him.  He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard a loud _thud to the right of him.  Looking down, he saw Paris Gellar sifting through the many books in her bag.  _

"Hello, Paris," he said testily, unsure if she was still angry at him for last year's events.  

Her head snapped up, shocked, and she blushed.  "Oh, hi Tristan," she said giddily, looking down at her books again.  

Tristan eyed her oddly.  _Guess she's not mad.  "I take it you're not mad at me anymore?"  he asked.  _

Paris looked confused, which was very rare for a straight A student.  "Why would I be mad?" She snapped, while stacking books into her locker.    

He rolled his eyes at her forgetfulness.  "You know…what Rory did?" He said it smoothly, making sure to put an emphasis on Rory's name.  

"Rory?  Who's he?"  

"Rory is a _girl, Paris.  Come on, you can't forget her after only 3 months."_

"I don't _know a girl named Rory, Tristan.  Now if you'll excuse me—"  Tristan put an arm up to block her.  _

"I knew it.  You're still mad at her.  Don't be stupid, Paris, you'll have to talk to her eventually."

Paris looked at him strangely.  "Are you okay?  Maybe you should go to the nurse…"  She didn't wait for a reply and walked away, dragging her heavy backpack with her.  

Tristan shook his head slightly and began to walk down the hallway, stopping to flirt with girls on his way to class.  As he was being forced into conversation by Ashley Chasez, a brunette slut, he felt a slap on his back and turned around.  He grinned as he saw his friend Jason giving Ashley a glare – he hated her because she cheated on him a year ago.  

"Hey, DuGrey, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah, sure." He walked away, not bothering to excuse himself from Ashley.  As soon as he was walking with Jason, his friend glared at him.  

"You can do better than her."

"I know."

"Then why—"

"Don't ask," Tristan said dryly.  Wanting to change the subject, he asked, "Have you seen Rory Gilmore?"

Jason looked dumbfounded, but then grinned.  "Yeah, man, I _love that movie!  But I thought it was __Happy Gilmore…"_

Tristan groaned and rolled his eyes.  This was going to be a long day.  

He hadn't bothered to look for Rory during the day, accepting the fact that he had no classes with her.  Although he liked her, he wasn't a lovesick puppy, as he had been the previous year.  

Now that the last bell of the day signaled him that he actually had permission to leave school, he decided to look for her – maybe ask someone if they saw her – excluding Paris and his dumbfounded friend, of course.  

After a few minutes of flirting with girls that he happened to pass on the way, he walked casually over to Madeline and Louise.  Louise gave him a seductive grin, and he grinned back at her – although she hated to admit it, they weren't good for one another, having come to that conclusion during their freshmen year:

_Louise sat herself down on Tristan's desk, sending down to him a sly smile.  Swinging her legs, she sat there for a moment, silent.  Tristan had felt her sitting down and looked up, meeting her gaze.  Without saying anything, he looked back down at his book, not acknowledging her.  She pouted and grabbed the book away from him, turning it over to see what it was.  Lolita.  It figured._

_"Tris, this isn't assigned reading."  It was more of a question that a remark.  She raised an eyebrow at him._

_"I know."  He didn't bother to explain himself, because in his opinion, he didn't need to._

_Louise frowned and decided to try a new approach.  "Lolita.  That's my favorite book."_

_He looked up and rolled his eyes.  "No it isn't."_

_She bit her lip, annoyed.  "Ok, so it isn't.  What's the matter with you?  You're being an asshole."_

_Tristan, exasperated, got up from his seat and grabbed the book out of her hands, leaving her there.  Louise followed him, perplexed.  She would give him one last try.  "Tris, do you want to—"_

_He held a hand up to stop her.  "Don't finish that sentence."_

_"But why—"_

_He stared at her for a moment, trying to think of the right words to use.  "Listen, Grant.  I've known you for years.  I know a lot about you.  You know we're the same kind of…person.  Just admit, we wouldn't be a good couple, Lou."_

_Louise, unabashed, simply replied, "Okay" and walked back to her seat.  He watched her intently for a moment, only returning to his book when he saw her looking up at him, giving him the finger, smiling during the process.  _

"Grant, Madeline," he acknowledged, watching Louise survey him.  "Have you seen Rory around?"

"Rory?" Madeline chirped, looking more confused than usual.  

Louise eyed Tristan carefully.  "Sleeping with girls from other schools, Tristan dear?"

Tristan smirked.  "No, not since last January."

Louise returned the smirk.  "You're not missing anything."  She waited for him to glare at her before continuing.  "Then who is Rory?  And please don't tell me that she's your cousin.  That's just wrong."

"No, that would be Ainet."  He watched Louise out of the corner of his eye.  "And she's too young for me," he added smugly.  

"Right."

"Besides, Louise, I seem to remember an affair that you had with your cousin.  What was his name again?"

She glared at him, only making the smirk on his face more evident.  "I _told you, I didn't know that he was my cousin."  _

This drew a laugh from him.  "I was just joking, Louise.  You admitted to something I just made up.  Damn, I never had a clue."

She smacked him lightly on the arm.  "Go away."

"Not before you tell me why everyone in this god damn grade doesn't have a clue who Rory Gilmore is."

Madeline rolled her eyes while playing with a strand of her brown hair.  "Tristan, we've already told you that we don't know who she is.  Who is she, your imaginary playmate?"

He smirked again, resting his arm on her shoulder.  "Imaginary?  No.  Playmate?  I wish."

Madeline, fed up with his joking, glared at him while removing his arm from her shoulder.  "Cut the crap.  Come on, Tristan.  Who's Rory?"

Tristan gave them both annoyed looks.  "Repeat after me.  _R-O-R-Y  G-I-L-M-O-R-E.  Brown hair, blue eyes, nice body, hates me and Paris…"  Deciding not to take the conversation further with the confused Madeline, he turned to Louise.  "C'mon, Lou.  Don't tell me you forgot about her too.  It's only been 3 months."_

Louise raised her eyebrows at him.  "Listen, Tris, I seriously don't know who Rory is.  And here's some advice… if no one else knows, go to the office."

Rolling his eyes at Louise, Tristan decided to take her advice and head down to the office.  If _they didn't know who she was, well… he would definitely need to see a psychiatrist.  "Yeah, whatever.  I'll talk to you later."  With that said and done, he began to walk down the hallway, not bothering to wait for them to reply.    
  
Madeline mumbled a goodbye while Louise chose to ignore him, watching him retreat down the now empty hallways.  As he rounded the corner, she turned back to Madeline, wanting to finish their discussion on the newest boys in their grade that were hot.  Of course, no one could compare with the one who had just left them standing there.  At least in Louise's opinion._

As he pushed the glass door open, Tristan looked around for the school secretary.  Finally spotting her typing behind a large white computer, he walked over to her.  Not noticing him, her eyes were transfixed on the screen, her fingers typing well over 100 words per minute.  He decided to wait a minute to let her finish up.  He glanced at her desk, finding the usual secretary-like props: a few pictures of her children, glasses, a stuffed animal on top of her computer, and a coffee mug with the words _best mom in the world inscribed on it._

Deciding that he had waited long enough, he cleared his throat loudly.  She looked up, startled, and her _best mom in the world coffee mug spilled coffee all over her.  She cursed softly and looked up to glare at him.  "Yes?" she snapped, taking a large amount of paper towels out of her drawer to cover the mess._

"I was wondering if you had a student named Lorelai Gilmore enrolled."

"We can't give out that information, young man."  She knew that she could if she wanted to, but he had pissed her off.  She looked down at her desk, annoyed when she saw the paper towels sopping up the coffee, getting brown smudges on her papers.  

"Oh.  Actually, another secretary helped me before.  I just came back to see if anything had changed."  It was a lie that almost always worked, and it was his last chance – before he had to take it into his own hands to find the information.  

She rolled her eyes and sighed.  She didn't want him in here any longer than he had to be.  Typing the girl's name into the computer, she waited for it to return results.  "There is no Lorelai Gilmore enrolled here.  Now if you'll kindly leave—"

Hardly believing it, Tristan walked over to her side of the desk, confused when he saw that she wasn't lying.  There was no mention of Lorelai Gilmore in the Chilton database.  "I don't get it.  Are you sure there's no other way to find-"

"I'm quite sure.  Now, please, I'm very busy.  Unless you'd like to help me clean up the mess you helped me made, I suggest you go."  She dismissed him, looking at her brown papers in disgust.  

Tristan sighed and walked out of the office, thinking.  What the hell was going on?  Rory couldn't have been expelled, that was for sure.  She was as good as girls her age could possibly get.  Was it that she couldn't afford to go anymore?  He knew that her grandparents paid for her tuition, but was it possible that maybe they got into a fight?  He knew it was none of his business, but he wanted to find out.  As he left the school building and got into his car, he _would know what happened.    _

As Tristan was driving home from school, he couldn't help but notice a green sign on the highway that seemed to stand out:  _Stars Hollow, 5 miles._

Although he wanted to find Rory and ask her what happened, he didn't need to "investigate" and look like a stalker during the process.  After all, it could be handled over the phone or on the internet.  Of course, the one thing that was wrong with that was the fact that he didn't know her number or email address.  HE sure as hell wasn't going to ask anyone else; they were all acting as if they never knew her.  

But why wasn't _he?_

If he wasn't a "lovesick puppy", as he had claimed, why did he care so much?  For what reason did he _need to know what happened?  He didn't have a clue.  All he knew was that he wanted to know, and when he wanted something – well, he made sure he got it.  _

Sighing, Tristan eyed the green sign indicating that Rory's stereotypical town was less than a mile away.  Choosing to ignore it, he drove past the sign until the actual exit came up.  Glancing at it, he groaned and exited the highway, unable to believe that he was actually going to go through with it.

As he entered the town, he looked strangely at everything.  Everything seemed so – weird.  The people, the stores… hell, the name of the actual _town was weird.  No matter how odd it was, the diner with the hardware store sign on it looked particularly inviting, considering the fact that he hardly ate his lunch at school.  Deciding that it looked okay to eat in, he parked his car on the side of a road and walked around, resisting the urge to flip the bird at whoever was staring at him strangely.  For a small town, things seemed busy—whatever Stars Hollow lacked in size, it made up for in practically everything else.  Tristan, who was so used to being able to find his way around, was lost in a matter of minutes.  He chose to tell himself that he wasn't lost- he just wanted to take a quick tour of the town.  _

Finally, after arriving at the diner, he slowly entered the building, hearing the sound of bells ringing as the door opened.  He looked around, coming to the conclusion that it seemed like a regular diner.  He walked up to where a man, who he safely assumed was Luke, was standing.  He looked grumpy, maybe from the fact that all he had to wear was a flannel shirt, jeans, and a blue baseball cap that he habitually wore backwards.  Sitting down at one of the stools at the counter, he waited for Luke to hand him a menu.  Instead, he looked at Tristan and walked over.  

"What do you want?" he asked gruffly, eyeing Tristan carefully.

"Um, I'll have a burger and fries."  He didn't even know where the menu was, and he wasn't going to ask Luke for one.  Since practically every diner served burgers, he decided to make an order that was – well, safe.  

Luke turned and left to open the doors to the kitchen.  Tristan watched as the doors swung open and closed, open and closed – until it finally ceased to move.  He sat uncomfortably, feeling as though every person was staring at him.  He glanced around the diner, finding the usual diner-like things in it.  Becoming bored, he put his chin in his hands and glanced down at the counter top.  After staring at it for what seemed like 5 minutes, he looked out of the window.  For awhile, he sat, uninterested.  But suddenly he froze.  

There he was—the tall brown haired kid he liked to call _bag boy.  And he was heading for the diner.  Although he wasn't in the mood to get into a fight, Tristan would punch him a few—if he had to.  Tristan started to chew on the burger that Luke brought out of the kitchen a few minutes ago.  There he sat, eating his burger, watching Dean like a hawk as he entered the diner.  He didn't take notice of Tristan until he walked over to the counter and ordered two cups of coffee.  He glanced at him, looked at him strangely, and then looked away, uninterested.  _

Tristan was stupefied, to say the least.  Bag boy didn't even have the nerve to _glare at him!  He began to laugh lightly, watching with interest as Dean looked at him, eyebrows raised.  Although Tristan kept telling himself not to say anything, he couldn't help it.  _

"Hello there, Bag Boy."

Dean looked around him, then back at Tristan.  "Are you talking to me?"  

"Well, you're the only bag boy I know of."  

'Bag Boy' looked at him oddly.  "Who are you?"

"Oh, come on now.  '_Dristan?'  '__Accountant?'  Those are all of your favorite nicknames for me."_

Dean edged away from him, looking uncomfortable.  "Um, I still don't know who you are."

"Well, I know you.  And your girlfriend."  He said the last part bitterly—he couldn't help it.

"How do you know Rory?"

Tristan was really starting to think something was wrong with Dean.  Seriously—he couldn't be dumb enough not to remember him—even if he _did go to Stars Hollow High School.  "How could I not know her?  She goes to my __school for crying out loud!"_

Dean glared at him.  "Look, man, I don't know what your problem is.  Rory goes to _my school, and I doubt she knows who you are.  I don't even think she'd __want to know who you are!"_

Tristan clenched his fists, resisting the urge to deck Dean.  "Right.  Whatever you say.  You're even more stupid than I remember."

Bag Boy looked as though he was going to punch Tristan, but decided against it.  As the bells on the door of the diner rang again, Dean glanced back and smiled.  There she was—she would set this guy straight—whoever he was.  

Tristan stood there, frozen.  Rory.  As much as he wanted to go walk over to her and ask her what the hell was wrong with her—he didn't.  Instead, he got to watch as Dean walked silently over to her and kissed her softly, taking her hand in his.  God, he felt like he was going to throw up.  

Rory turned around and looked at him, and he felt his heartbeat quicken as she looked him over.  And then—he felt his heart stop beating as she gave him the same strange look as everyone else.  She gave him no recognition at all—no glare, no smile, no frown.  She just turned away as everyone else had, and began to talk with Dean.  

Tristan couldn't take it anymore.  He abandoned his half-eaten burger and walked over to the table she was sitting at, sipping on a cup of coffee while laughing at something bag boy had said. 

Dean glared at him as he saw Tristan come over, wanting more than anything for him to leave.  He scowled at him as he sat down next to Rory, smirking all the while.

Rory looked at him uncomfortably and decided to stare at her coffee cup – white Styrofoam was, in fact, very interesting.

"Mary, where have you been?"  He smirked at her, taking pleasure in the fact that she was uncomfortable.  She stared at him for a while, edging closer to Dean unnoticeably.  

"Sorry, but do I know you?"  

Tristan gave her a look.  "Not you, too.  Damn… what the hell is wrong with everyone?  Come on, Rory… stop pretending you don't remember me.  Okay, I may have been a jerk, but don't be daft."  

Dean glared at Tristan and grabbed Rory's hand.  "Come on, Ror.  Let's go."

Rory stared at Tristan for a moment and got up, giving him one last glance before she walked out of the diner.  Luke walked over to Tristan and glared.  

"What's the matter with you?"  

"Excuse me?"  

"You think you can just come into this town?  What, do you think we're going to respect you?  Get out."

"What the hell are you talking about?"  Tristan was dumbfounded.  

"All you prep school kids.  You're never going to be welcome here.  Money can't buy everything, kid.  Now get out."

Tristan stood up from his seat and glared at Luke.  "By the looks of it, you don't have that much money.  Otherwise, you would probably buy yourself a nice outfit instead of that cheap plaid you're wearing.  Oh, and buy the way, I'm not paying for anything."  He walked quickly out of the diner and back to his car.  

He tried to ignore all the looks he was getting as he walked down the street.  He gave a sigh of relief as his car started, and started to feel more relaxed as he re-entered the highway.  The one thing that kept him from relaxing, however, was the fact that Rory refused to acknowledge him.  Even though she hated him, he always thought it was more like a "friendly hate" than an actual _hate.  Last year she never had a problem with verbally insulting him.  _

But now she refused to talk to him, to look at him…and he wasn't amused.  

**Note:  See the A/N at the beginning of this story to find out why this won't be updated in awhile.  **


End file.
